The Most Important Person
by LaughingDeath77
Summary: Sasuke's most important person, a drabble. Contains many spoilers.


Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters.

The Most Important Person

In the beginning, there were two sets of loving arms to enfold him and his achievements, and that person was there too, so all was well. There was tempered warmth, and there was encouragement, and hands to help him along.

Next there was blood, and screams of terror. The hands were gone, the encouragement long buried beneath favoritism and the suicide of sanity. That person was there again, but all was not well, and that person left while the moon drowned crimson in blood.

.

Then there were three people. Girlish screams and a ludicrous amount of the pigment pink were at first resented, then tolerated, and finally understood for the sincere dedication and friendship beneath the doting, superficial external facade. Ultimately, a sort

of admiration bloomed for the persistence and expression of emotion that slowly he estranged himself from, whether inadvertently or purposefully not even he knew. For the first time, he knew responsibility for another's dreams, growth, and very heart, and,

deep down, recognized that for a strength he hadn't the courage to even fantasize about anymore.

.

Then there was unpunctuality and lechery, initially only perceived as a means to progress, a rung of a step ladder. In time, though, orange covers of 'paradise' pulled back, and there was more truth found. Sensitivity, and a dedication surpassing the

mortal lies of bodies danced through a mirage of silver and black. Respect practically forced its way into existence as power was revealed and administered without being obstructive to progression. His eyes opened at the whirling, scarlet revelation one of his

held, and suddenly the world was larger and more vivid in the face of pain he never knew. Fidelity sprouted sluggishly from the caring guidance, and caring bloomed from its branches. Hesitantly, the masked enigma was perceived as a sort of paternal

presence he had never had. Like the dogs beneath his command, the silver one was a dependent source of independence, and he grew inside and out.

.

Finally, there was raucous laughter, yelling, ramen-of all things-, and a belief so ludicrous and yet so compelling that he half-loathed half-craved it. Sunlight and sky offset a grin of unadulterated joy, and maybe this is why it took him so long to

understand that while they appeared opposites, within they were reflections of the same mirror. Always seeking acknowledgement of their true selves which they never received. But each time, they got up, bloody knees and devotion, finding new inspiration, new

hope, and new paths. There was an familial intimacy he had never, ever known, not even before his tiny world was red-washed. Of course, it took a long time fr this to manifest. Annoyance was the first to probe his dulled heart concerning this one;

annoyance, dismissal, and a sense of unwavering superiority, all wriggled their way in eventually, and he should have been wary at this intrusion of sensation, but he wasn't. Curiosity evolved, and partial understanding nipped its heels. He should have been

wary. Admiration, though never to be heeded, whispered in next, and a tantalizing idea that maybe he was understood by this blond enigma touched his mind. He really should have taken better precautions. Happiness ripped him apart and let the sky and its

garrulous tones into his heart. He should have been wary, but he wasn't, and it felt so good to feel. Best friend, rival, brother? Maybe.

.

But it wasn't enough, and it was never enough, because that one was never there. All it took was a bite both figurative and literal to reduce his world to what it was before, to revert to his obsessive priorities. The world built by the blossom, the cat with

dogs, and the brilliant sunlight crumbled beneath the venom of his conviction, and he along with it. It would be so simple to change back, he believed initially. Devotion he left on a cold stone bench, friendship bloody in the rain, loyalty and home in a headband

by friendship's side. At last, all he could see was that person once again, eating him alive.

.

Yet he soon discovered, no matter how desirous to _un_own them as he was, they wouldn't let him go. They followed him, made him their ambition and determination. They each grew in their own ways; blossom to earthshaking tree, sunlight into a

blazing summer sky. And into the very lair of the devil, they followed him. He hadn't thought on them, because it was deleterious to his progress-_ it hurt too much-_ and when they finally penetrated the labyrinth surrounding him...The confrontation that

ensued was utterly disconcerting to his unsuspecting mind.

.

His ebony eyes roved the meager ranks before him, and at first he thought two were missing. The silver hair was replaced with auburn, and the cocky smirk with a feigned smile. But then he realized, staring impassively down into years of change,

_all_ of them were missing. All of his past had found a hole in time to live in, including his younger, more naive self. He thought he could escape these bonds, opening eyes bleeding hatred, by losing his former self. To the end of this hurtful end, he gave up

his memories, his morals, and his could be-were so truly- precious people.

.

Ruefully staring down into a determined field of blooming green beneath a clear, sunny sky, he pondered whether his naivety had altered at all. He could throw away his past, but these people decided long before this disposal to be a part of his future,

and he could not elude that so simply. He said words, prideful, justified, and wrong, then left, trying to not care.

Look where it got him. The most important person dead, but _not by him_, an uninformed, righteous dream that spanned a decade and was all a lie. All his life, he had been loved. Loved with blood, flowers, and sunshine, and nothing but anguish

returned.

...

This is my first piece of work to be posted. Helpful critique is welcome, and thank you for reading.


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